Sunday, May 25, 2008

...the annual...

this year

we failed to blossom

due to the temperatures

and temperaments

the lack of rain

the lack of warmth

the lack of spring-like support

always bouncing back

after the cold cold days

the bulbs were planted

too deep and the roots

had already been

detached and frayed

for far too long

Friday, May 23, 2008 birds and brits...

alive with a voice

inside of the head

and the trees bow

chattering as they cheer

on the fact

that somebody is 

making you laugh

and that body is me

stepping out

into the finally warm night

...delayed reaction...

is there an absence 

when you wake?

that terror at night,

a reaction

to what you have lost

not what you

expect to lose?

is there anything

we can do 

without the delayed reaction?

is there a missing

line, poem,

complete entity

lost in this delay?

Monday, May 19, 2008

...false representations of real life on a memory card...

finding the battery charger

was a curse in disguise;

now, I am forced 

to look at those images

and forced to make decisions

as quickly as yours was made

to hit delete.

...clouds come down...

clouds come down

and get off the sky's back

already get it over with already

down come clouds

Friday, May 16, 2008

...pop lines and empty tables...

how to fight loneliness

smile all the time


Where does one

go to eat


on a Friday

night when

the present tense

singular is only

a pretext for

this solitude?

All I can do 

is visit pop lines 

and empty tables

and have to stop 

listening to those songs 

(I don't want to stop 

but you 

are in all of them)

Thursday, May 15, 2008

...ready to bolt...

there is no where to go

and there is always somewhere

to go tonight but the winds

they are expecting will howl

and you will be busy

taking care of things

and I will always want

to be going somewhere

ready to bolt anywhere

with you

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

...Cee-lo Reiter...

I don’t have any friends at all
Cause I have nothing in common with ya’ll
So who’s gonna catch me if I fall
My backs always against the wall

I don’t have anything to say
I want everything to go my way
Shut up mom it is not OK
I’m alone almost every day

But it’s cool (it’s cool)
It could be better (could be better)
I don’t care (I don’t care)
Whatever (whatever)


Went to my counselor bout how I feel
Everyone agrees I could use some help
I love my girl more than I love myself
She’s going steady with someone else

I don’t know what else to do
Said fuck me, well fuck you too
I know it sounds real sad but true
Being alone is nothing new

But it’s cool (it’s cool)
It could be better (could be better)
I don’t care (I don’t care) …huh
Whatever (whatever)


("Whatever" lyircs are from Gnarls Barkley's "The Odd Couple")

Monday, May 12, 2008

...even if you don't...

I'll keep looking

at you because

you told me to

and the music

we listen to

is an act

of willingness

of unification

and we shall

keep on listening

Sunday, May 11, 2008 are pretty amazing...

for putting up with our shit

the children of the world

would like to thank

you for all your hard and tireless

efforts considering we have

hardly treated you the way

that we should have

but we love you

we really do

(happy mother's day)

Friday, May 09, 2008

...hope you are well...

I hope you are well

but I guess you are

because you haven't

talked to me

which means

that you are ok

(I still don't understand)

Thursday, May 08, 2008

...deja Turnpike view...

on the ride home

two trucks kissed

and parted and the scary

part was that I saw

this before and didn't

heed the danger

they parted and kept

control gliding beside me

off to their charted exit

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

...damn yankees...

at the game tonight

Jaba blew the lead

with one swift kick

just like I did with you

lost the lead

by not delivering

the right pitch

and this may be the season

for "lasts":

last time in this stadium

last time in this house

the last last kiss this

just like the game

we kissed it goodbye

just like the fans

I am bitter about the loss

Monday, May 05, 2008

...short poets are epically sad and if not careful, lose their game...

peculiar reading:

lost in the space:

of my head:

(Where are you?

I have no one to talk to

and feel wanted in front of)

peculiar social maladjustments:

the guy standing in the bar:

alone: unsure of what to do

with his hands, his eyes:

I didn't even get to see:

Anne read: Only heard:

Through the poor PA:

At the back of the bar:

I sat in a chair faced:

the wrong way:

looked at this girl:

then at this other:

and didn't know:

what to do:

Do I keep looking?

She's looking back.

Do I keep looking?

What the fuck:

has become of this:

petty petty poet:

in this bar:

full of poets?

Saturday, May 03, 2008

...doubting it all...

so quickly

you turn to other's arms

and I understand

that you need arms

detest solitude

but to know mine were

too short and that you

can find the same comfort


is discomforting.

Just remember this:

You turn around

and someone is always

there. That is what

you have created.

When you need arms,

they are there.

When I turn around

they are not.

When I turn around

its just me turning around

and the lack

of compassion

in this

truly leaves me

doubting it all.